


The Sacred Texts (pt 2): An Exploration into Hating the Czar but Engaging Sexually with his Spiritual Advisor

by SoyuzSovietsky



Series: The Manuscripts or: How I Learned to Stop Feeling Shame Regarding Rasputin [3]
Category: 20th Century CE RPF, Political RPF - Russian 20th c., Russian History RPF, The Last Czars (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M, Historical Accuracy, History Jokes, I Blame TikTok, I Don't Even Know, I hope, Porn, Porn With Plot, Reader is a Communist, S&M, Sequel, Shameless Smut, Sleeping with the enemy, Slow To Update, Songfic, THIS WILL BE MULTIPLE PARTS, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoyuzSovietsky/pseuds/SoyuzSovietsky
Summary: NOT THE CURRENT VERSION. ARCHIVE PURPOSES ONLY. READ THE CURRENT VERSION HERE https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307068/chapters/35512638.
Relationships: Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin/Original Character(s), Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin/Reader, i guess - Relationship
Series: The Manuscripts or: How I Learned to Stop Feeling Shame Regarding Rasputin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835962
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. She's Lost Control

**Author's Note:**

> OK SOOOOOOOO....  
> I guess this is alternate history, I am a history buff and study the period around the Russian Revolution very very seriously. This may seem like a crackfic but due to coronavirus quarantine, my own weirdness, and my lack of physical college or a job for the time being, I am very serious. This isn't exactly a songfic but this part has been brought to you by Sins of the Flesh by Sister Machine Gun and It's Not What by KMFDM and Skold. My first part's creative flow was also heavily inspired by It's Not What so I hope I can achieve some continuity. LMK if you have any suggestions. I suffer from writer's block.

Part 2: The Reckoning?  
After waking up sore, confused, and sticky on the living room sofa of the Tsar’s infamous spiritual advisor, the young woman found herself dazed, confused, and satisfied. The previous night, her desires towards Grigori were finally realized, culminating in a frenzy of drunken lust the previous night. Just thinking about him standing behind her, thrusting sharply into her managed to give her goosebumps and a renewed warm and wet sensation between her legs. 

She slowly lifted herself off of the sofa, managing to crack her aching neck and back in the process. It was at this point she noticed the massive hangover migraine. Silently kicking herself in the ass for allowing him to serve her so much alcohol, she reached for her rumpled and wrinkled clothes laying on the floor of the mystic’s living room. As she got dressed, she realized that she was surprisingly alone in his apartment. She wondered where he was while releasing a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t need to confront him after the previous night’s events. 

As she reached for the doorknob to silently let herself out of his apartment, she kicked herself in the ass once again, realizing she forgot the official reason why she accepted Grigori Rasputin’s invitation. She was urged by members and leaders of the local communist organization to find out why this mysterious figure was so frequently within the quarters of the Tsar, and what they were up to together. They knew that Grigori’s frequent activities and behaviors were unbecoming of someone part of the court of Nicholas Romanov. This piqued their curiosity as to why they tolerated his lecherousness, lust, and public drunkenness, thus they wanted to find out all they could regarding the inner workings of the more….questionable….members of the Tsar’s posse. 

The inexperienced spy had completely forgotten the information she was tasked with coming up with…obviously the party hadn’t instructed her to argue religion with Rasputin, allow him to serve her copious amounts of alcohol, and then allow him to have his way with her on his sofa. As she walked out of his apartment building and down the city street, she attempted to brainstorm excuses for why her mission had failed, knowing that the local leaders will want to know all forms of detail. She was unable to come up with any that were devoid of plot holes, or difficult to debunk. Accepting this failure, she realized that she will probably be required to tell the truth about what really occurred the previous night at the night’s meeting with those who sent her.


	2. It's Not What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our main character meets with her comrade and ends up revealing what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYOOOOO
> 
> Here we are at Chapter 2! 99.9% SFW as its literally just our main character meeting up with a fellow communist. NSFW will be coming soon as she will be meeting back up with Grigori next.....spicy...

Later that night, the nervously unprepared young woman walked into the dark and dingy apartment belonging to one of the local party leaders. Throughout the day, she had been mentally preparing herself for the inevitable interrogation, but was unable to calm her nerves completely. She knew she would be asked to provide information about Rasputin that she simply had not acquired. It was in this moment that she decided to throw all caution to the wind, worry was of no purpose, they would find out one way or another.

A comrade of Lev Kamenev greeted her at the door as she began to sweat nervously. The man formally greeted her with a tight handshake as she laughed awkwardly, in fear of what was to come. He invited her to take a seat at the old wooden table in the center of the unit’s main room. As she sat down, he spoke first; “So, how was your meeting with the Dark Monk last night,” sarcastically referring to Rasputin by one of his many nicknames given by friends and foes alike.

“Well…I sat down with him in his home and he told me he suspected that I was a communist with anti Tsarist sentiment,” the girl replied nervously.

“-and I hope you didn’t lead him to believe that you were! A blunder like that could cost us everything.” The dark haired, bearded man interjected.

“No, I chose to deny all of his statements and questions toward my political standing. Once he was seemingly sure that I was telling him the truth, he desired to spend time with me, drinking and talking.”

“And while he was intoxicated….did he release any information on Nicholas? Any information on the reason he’s been consistently seen in and around the palace?”

This question made the humbled young revolutionary freeze in place. She took in a deep breath and spoke, “We…actually didn’t end up speaking about the Tsar…or any of his personal business. I guess…we just ended up talking about religion…and he told me that I didn’t have the light of God in my life and he needed to help me become more holy.”

The eyes of her fellow comrade widened, he knew Grigori Rasputin’s alleged modus operandi from the mosquito press and the gossip around St. Petersburg. He believed that to make the women of Russia more holy, he needed to bring them closer to God. In his ideology, the more you sin, the more you can repent, thus bringing you closer to holiness. It was Rasputin’s preferred method of sin that worried the Bolshevik. Grigori most often assisted women he found attractive in becoming more holy by engaging with them sexually. He spoke with a gaze of worry on his face, “And then what happened? I know what that lecherous bastard likes to do in order to bring women, allegedly, closer to God.”

“Well…it’s funny that you mentioned that because…..he also mentioned that last night when we were talking,” she replied while laughing nervously once again. 

“For both of our sakes, please tell me you declined him in a manner most disgusted and stormed from his apartment at once,” the man retorted, looking annoyed, horrified, and anticipatory.

“Ah, so, about that, yeah……well….I left immediately?” she lied through her teeth, albeit not very convincingly. Before, he was suspicious about the events of the previous night, but now she all but told him that she spent over an hour of the previous day with her tight, dripping wet pussy stretched to the limit around the thick and long member of Grigori Rasputin.

“Cut the shit, I know you’re lying to me. You failed me, you failed yourself, and you failed the entire Bolshevik movement last night. We needed you to find out what Rasputin has been up to with the royal family, to attempt to find a smoking gun. All you did was play directly into him. You did exactly what he wanted you to do and for what? Your own whorish desires, you disgust me…” 

As the local leader screamed across the table, the newly labeled “whore” found herself feeling smaller and smaller, she despised confrontation. She let the waves of guilt wash over her as he finished his spiel. She was nearly about to cry when a thought popped up in her overworked brain. She interjected loud enough to get his attention and then spoke; “Hold on, I’m not hurting our cause, I’m helping it. I didn’t fail my mission, I’m just playing the long game. Don’t you get it? If I’m a member of Grigori’s ‘little ladies’, I’ll be in the inner circle, more likely to hear gossip about Nicholas, as well as information straight from the horse’s mouth.”

The man across the table returned to a calm demeanor as he realized that she was right. As Rasputin was perhaps the most sexually driven man in all of Russia, sex was probably the best way to gain his trust. If she could keep this up, they could really find something that could blow Nicholas’s head right off his shoulders.


	3. Sins of the Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our main character goes to see Grigori again after contemplating her role with him and his role with Russia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im making you wait for sexy stuff because ummm im tired...

Our friend left the local leader’s domicile just as nervously as she arrived. The communist official hadn’t only found out that she had slept with the dark monk, he ended up sanctioning it. As of late, it was officially deemed necessary in order to allow her to continue seeing Grigori to gain information about him and the royal family. This both delighted and terrified the young woman. On one hand, she no longer had to lust for the royal spiritual advisor from afar, but on the other hand, it was an amount of pressure she felt unprepared to deal with. She essentially had to keep up with the demands of the horniest man in St Petersburg in order to stay at the top of his list, and to get him to trust her. Only if he trusted her would he give up such confidential information as his dealings with the Romanovs.

The next day, she awoke later than usual to a knock at her door. She had received a telegraph from none other than Grigori Rasputin. In it, he complemented her for being so “receptive to his method of prayer” earlier that week, but “there was still quite of work that needed to be done”. Above all, he requested her presence later that night at his apartment. As she read the last line of the telegraph, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and a tingle in the most sensitive part of her body. She was both set alight with lust and crushed by anxiety, all thoughts of acquiring information on the tsar went out the window as she rushed to finish the tasks she was to do for the rest of the day, running information throughout the city on the upcoming Bolshevik demonstration.

The first time she showed up at Grigori’s apartment, she happened to be dressed in utilitarian men’s clothing. This time, she wanted to appeal to him as a lady, not simply a present wrapped in dirty brown butchers’ paper. She dressed in her favorite black dress and a long black coat. She walked back into Grigori's apartment building at half past 8, the time he had specified in his previous telegram. She was intensely excited for what was to come, yet she moved with apprehension. Although this wasn't her first time sharing the mystic's bed, or couch for that matter, she still found the sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she walked up the staircase.

The truth is, she was mostly just excited to have another excuse to have another steamy tryst with the most sexually desirable man in St Petersburg. She was still sore from last time, despite it being multiple days behind her. What could she expect, sleeping with a man whose reputation was mainly derived from the length and girth of his manhood? It was captivating, infamous, and undeniably inviting. There was no doubt that many ladies engaged with him if only just to say that they had. It was somewhat of a rite of passage within his inner circle, a challenge of sorts. A challenge, it certainly was; at an incomprehensible 11 inches in length and as thick as a wrist, fitting it into any orifice a woman may have always proved difficult. The difficulty itself gave any of his ladies who managed to succeed an unmatched sense of confidence and accomplishment afterwards. Sex with Grigori Rasputin made a woman feel special, like she was somebody in the complicated social world of St Petersburg.

This could either be beneficial or detrimental to the lady in question, depending on the personality and sense of self-worth possessed by each woman who shared his bed. For a woman with a lowered sense of self-esteem could find herself addicted to it, addicted to him. A woman like that would always crash and burn, though. Eventually she would want him all to herself; eventually she would confuse her lust for true love and find herself irreparably heartbroken when Grigori's true nature prevented her from ever being his only one. You see, Grigori Rasputin was a man who needed to come with a disclaimer. You can sleep with him, you can get close with him, you can be friends with him, but he would never ever ever be a man of only one woman. There were ladies who believed they could change him, but they were delusional. If they really wanted a reality check, they could take the days long trip to Pokrovskoye and ask Praskovya Dubrovina-Rasputina herself. She has been his wife since he was 18 years old and even she has never had him to herself, however she had made peace with it. This was either due to a legitimate belief in his healing abilities or possibly a form of self-preservation in order to deal with the fact that she would never get to enjoy a monogamous relationship.

Now, this doesn't make Grigori a bad man, on all accounts of those who have had close relationships with him, he is a caring, empathetic, and kind man. However, there are two sides to the man many have come to know as the dark monk. Yes, he is kind, but he can also be lecherous, brutal, and abrasive.

Sadly, the very nature of Rasputin's role in the social culture of St. Petersburg and his nature as a person created the perfect storm for any relationship a lady might have with him to become a toxic power struggle.

As the young woman waited at his door for him to answer, she assured herself that she was different. She wouldn’t let her feelings be caught in the crossfire between her desires and his nature. She was smarter than the rest of them, she never let herself get caught up in religion, despite most of the population of Russia being devoted to whatever God fit their fancy. She was also literate, which made her a rarity in a country with an overall literacy rate below 50%. Even Grigori couldn’t read until he was well into adulthood. Though her brain may be strong, she feared that her heart was weak, the mystic was the type of man she could find herself falling in love with, letting her lust overpower her and turn into a deep desire for him as a person. She couldn’t let that happen, she wasn’t going to let herself get hurt. She was to get as close to him as she could without being pulled in, like the gravitational pull of a black hole, completely inescapable.

After it felt like she waited an eternity, contemplating her long term strategy while staring at a crack in his door, it flew open. Behind the gaping door, she saw him. He was standing tall over her, wearing a simple pair of black pants and a loose white shirt. By the lean in his stance and the way his eyes were quite literally not pointing in the same direction, she knew he was already drunk. To be fair, when wasn’t he, though…he was a heavy drinker since adolescence, then he spent a few years as a sober, relatively pious holy man, and then he unceremoniously fell off the wagon. He has had quite the reputation since as a drunkard who frequently behaved in a disorderly manner in public.

He addressed her quite informally, inviting her into his home. While she walked past him, he gave her bottom a hard smack, startling her and causing her to jump a good few feet into the air. He was unfettered by her reaction, simply commenting on how she’s “got a nice ass on her”. This interaction caused all four of her cheeks to turn beet red; half in embarrassment, the other half as a result of the smack. He then grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.

Her heart was pounding as she looked into his eyes with a look of true desire on her face. His eyes were captivating, beautiful, and entrancing. Once you looked into them, you couldn’t simply look away. They were lupine eyes of an extremely light blue, almost silver, known throughout Russia for being the source of Rasputin’s power over people. Everything she had heard about his infamous eyes was true, they held her still in their gaze as she felt a wave of sexual desire flood over her as she felt her breath hitch in her throat and her panties moisten. She forgot all that she had thought about before knocking on his door, she was head over heels for him. She wanted all of him. She needed it.

Her thoughts were cut short as he pulled her into a dominating kiss. He shoved his tongue into her mouth as she felt herself melt in his arms, struggling to keep up with him. Her knees went weak as she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back with ferocity. She was so turned on, she just wanted him to undress her and have his way with her, as soon as humanly possible. He ground his hips into hers, letting her feel his immense manhood against her stomach. She felt him let go of her waist with one hand, only to let it fall lower, gripping her ass and pulling her against him harder.

After what seemed as both an instant and an eternity, he pulled away from her, gripping her hand harshly. With a drunken gait, he began to pull her towards his bedroom, impatient to get to the main event as soon as possible. She eagerly followed, her desire leading her to his bed.


	4. Alkohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Grigori and our main Lady have sex again. This time it doesn't go exactly as planned and she finds out about her extra kinky side...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Slightly dubious consent at one point  
> Blood   
> Masochism

As Grigori lead his newest little lady down the long hallway to his bedroom, he could feel her hand shaking. She was nervous. This wasn't her first time accepting his "religious guidance" and it most certainly wasn't going to be her last, but she felt butterflies in her stomach nonetheless. She was overwhelmed with emotion. Between her sexual desire making her dizzy and her nerves making her head spin, she was weak. By the time they arrived at the door, her knees were wobbly. 

Grishka threw open the door to his bedroom with a primal ferocity. Hearing the door slam against the wall behind it startled her, making her squeak and grip his hand harder. The last time she had slept with him, she was drunk out of her mind. Without the courage allotted to her by inebriation, her nerves were getting the best of her. No matter how nervous she was, it did nothing to quell her desire for him. She tensed up as he suddenly grabbed her around the waist and unceremoniously tossed her on the bed.

She let her legs naturally spread wide for him as her body hit the mattress. As his eyes traveled down her body, he noticed a hint to her true desire for him, she wasn't wearing underwear. He could see her pink, dripping sex, inviting him to take her for himself once more. His cheeks turned rosy as he pulled her to a sitting position to remove her dress and lay it nicely on the chair beside the bed. Grigori knew she dressed up for him, it would be quite rude to toss her fancy outfit on the floor. She blushed at his caring gesture while she found herself being pushed back onto the bed, legs being spread once more.

She lied there, completely naked, as he drunkenly palmed the length of his cock, feeling it get even harder under his touch. Once more she could see its imprint under his pants, unfathomably long and thick. At the sight of it, she could already feel her body preparing itself for what was to come. A clear, viscous fluid began to slowly drip from her sex as she felt her clitoris swell with arousal.

"Tell me what you want, whore." He spoke, voice hoarse and speech slurring.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat as she managed to whisper a response; "I want to be yours."

He smacked her thigh and scoffed, "You're already mine, slut." He continued to stroke his thick cock through his pants...they just seemed to get tighter and tighter by the moment as he became even harder. She could feel herself getting even wetter at the sight as waves of arousal hit her, washing over her.

She waited patiently with anticipation as Grigori started to unbuckle his belt. He then undid the buttons, freeing his impossibly large manhood. She felt herself gasp at the sight of it once more. No matter how many times she would eventually sleep with him, she would never ne able to get over his size. She could be stretched to accommodate his length and girth 100 times over, and the 101st time would always feel like the first.

"I know how much you want me," he said, with a playful tone of speech as he suddenly thrust two fingers into her, roughly curling them to hit her g spot. "I bet sex with me is all you can think about, I bet you dream about it. I know you can't wait. Don't be ashamed, sexy girl, its okay to desire sin, the holiest of the holy all desire sin." 

She felt herself moan loudly as Grigori roughly massaged the sensitive front wall of her sex. He was preparing her for his length as best he could, his vision blurry and his legs unsteady. He tried to prepare her properly but he was so inebriated, his efforts fell short. She simply couldn't bother to notice, her head thrown back in ecstasy, a combination of the thought of what the mystic was doing to her and the physical sensation of such making her drunk with arousal as she moaned, quietly letting his name slip past her lips.

Neither of them were sober. Grigori was drunk on alcohol as always but she was drunk only on pure arousal itself. Due to this, he neglected to insert more than two fingers, preventing her from stretching to accommodate a size even close to his. She was also guilty of neglecting to think about it, she was impatient, urging him to "hurry up and put it in" her as she squeezed herself around his fingers, trying to feel as much pleasure as possible.

This was neither hide nor hair as he removed his fingers, spread her legs wide, and spit in his hand. He roughly stroked his impossibly hard cock, attempting to lubricate it. She felt herself shudder as she watched him prepare for the act. Again, she begged him to fill her to the brim with his length, looking up at him with wide eyes filled with desire. Watching her plead for him must have unleashed something primal inside of him as he groaned and lined his cock up to her dripping wet slit.

"Are you ready to sin, my dirty girl?" He drunkenly asked as he let the tip of his engorged length rub against her swollen clitoris. 

She almost involuntarily moaned out a quiet "yes..." as he let himself slip forward, slamming all 11 inches of his manhood inside her at once. 

She clawed into his back as she let out a shriek of pain, her entire body on fire, radiating from her absolutely destroyed cervix. She felt tears pour from her eyes as she cried out in pain. She felt like she was being ripped in half, completely obliterated from the inside, but something about it sent waves of arousal to contrast the excruciating pain.

"Is it too much for you, my dear?" He asked,

"......no.....keep going...." she moaned, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He started to pull out slowly, inch by inch, as she continued to cry out in both pain and pleasure. Grigori's length was stained red with blood as more continued to drip from her body, mixed with the clear fluid of her arousal. The mixture dripped onto the front of his pants, as well as his bedsheets as she clamped her legs around his sides and covered her mouth, still quietly letting a combination of cries and moans slip past her lips.

It was at this point that Grigori began to thrust, pushing his manhood back into her. The slickness of her blood made it an easier fit. It still stung intensely after just a few inches pushed into her, but something about it turned her on. She knew what it was. Grigori Rasputin had claimed her as his. Nobody in all of Russia would be able to ruin her like he could. It was in this moment that she forgot about her previous ideation about her being different, not like his other ladies, keep him at arms length......blah blah blah. She was his, now and forever. She would devote herself to him until her dying breath. All she needed was him. Sure, she was still a communist, but now she was a communist second and a Rasputnaya woman first.

Despite her internal contemplation, all coherent thoughts left her head as he bottomed out once again, blood still spilling from her body as her pussy tensed around his thick cock. She let out another short screech as his hips met hers, tears continuing to stain her cheeks. 

She felt her body shake as she moaned in pleasure yet tensed up in pain. She was so overwhelmed by the act and consumed by him. He gripped her hips tightly as he pushed into her with short, staccato thrusts.

At this point, she needed the pain of him slamming into her to feel pleasure. Every time he pushed into her completely, she felt like she was floating, lightheaded from the overwhelming sensation. All she could do was lay there, clawing into his back, letting his blood cover her fingernails as he groaned, their bodies intertwined in sadomasochistic ecstasy.

She found herself gripping tighter and moaning with every thrust into her tight, bleeding hole. She could feel him getting more desperate, trying to hold tighter, move faster, and push deeper.

He was close and she knew it. It only took a few words, punctuated by moans, to push him over the edge, "please cum in me, Grishka? I need it,"

It was at this point that he felt himself lose control, lost in pleasure, as he felt her purposefully tense her muscles as much as possible, in order to make it a tight fit. His length spasmed as he rode out his orgasm, holding her even tighter than before as cum filled her insides. She felt each spurt stimulate the depths of her, increasing the pleasure she felt. She found herself shaking and moaning as he finished.

She felt her legs twitch as he pulled himself from her, a mixture of cum and blood spilling out onto the sheets. She was completely exhausted, if not a bit woozy from the blood loss. He stood up, walking across the room to get himself a towel. He unceremoniously wiped himself down, tucking his length back into his pants. He then made sure to clean her body as well. Grigori then crossed her arms and began to pray over her, touching her cheeks and kissing her forehead. She felt herself blush as she realized he was concerned for her. 

"Do you feel alright, my little one?" He asked, lightly running his hands up and down her body, a worried tone in his voice.

"I'm alright, Father Grigori, it just hurts..." she replied.

"Do not worry, I will help you, God will help you." He spoke, as he returned to prayer over her, slowly rubbing her lower abdomen.

She didn't know if it was placebo effect or her budding love for him, but she started to feel the pain dissipate. She blushed once more as she interrupted his prayer to pull him into a passionate kiss. He returned the gesture fervently as he moved to lay next to her, holding her tight against his body.

They fell asleep together that night, and as she drifted off to sleep, she thought to herself, "goddammit I really am a devotee..."


End file.
